


half a soliloquy on a scientifically interesting town and its equally interesting residents

by wartransmission



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Second person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 09:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5242832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wartransmission/pseuds/wartransmission
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about Cecil Gershwin Palmer is that you cannot fully describe him, not ever. There is always this barrier in your head; a wall between your thoughts and the muscles making up your mouth that prevents you from communicating how you perceive him as being. He is everything and nothing, a terrifying and beautiful individual, and you…well.</p><p>You’re in love with him, even with all of that. Maybe /because/ of all that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	half a soliloquy on a scientifically interesting town and its equally interesting residents

The thing about Cecil Gershwin Palmer is that you cannot fully describe him, not ever. There is always this barrier in your head; a wall between your thoughts and the muscles making up your mouth that prevents you from communicating how you perceive him as being. He is everything and nothing, a terrifying and beautiful individual, and you…well.

You’re in love with him, even with all of that. Maybe  _because_  of all that.

You’re kind of starting to forget how normality works, after all the years you’ve spent in Night Vale. You’re certain, more so with scientific research backing you up, that you’d be disoriented if you ever go back to the world outside of this ‘friendly’ desert town.

…oh.

 _If_. You thought  _if_ , instead of  _when_.

Well, it’s been a few years, and you  _did_  say that Night Vale is your home now. That thought’s likely ingrained itself into your head enough that you just automatically assume the possibility instead of the certainty of your leaving this town.

You really don’t want to leave, though.  _Sometimes_ , you do, because Night Vale still has this specific brand of weirdness that makes you want to scream from disbelief and frustration because of how often people just  _throw away_ their own regard for their lives. You don’t even know why you bother to keep anyone safe anymore when they just keep screaming at the skies above you instead of listening to what you have to say, but.

You  _have_  to do this. If not for the people, then for Cecil. It’s  _his_  home, far longer than it has been yours, and it wouldn’t be very nice if you didn’t at least  _try_  to explain things that could keep people safe.

It’s still very frustrating, though.

Very, very,  _very_  frustrating.

You sigh tiredly, almost making to rub at your face with a gloved hand, until you remember just what it was you’d been touching earlier. A plant having evolved  _specifically_  to drug people up, with its effects varying on the person, or sentient being, it touches. It is  _definitely_ a bad idea to cover your face with that stuff. Definitely.

You make sure that the small bush-like thing is boxed up before sliding your gloves off, then throwing them into the trash can right under your desk. The bin makes a growling sound when you do so, and you ignore it. It’s kind of normal now? Considering how long it’s been and all the weird things you’ve seen, you just go with it.

What was it that Cecil said? “If you see something, say nothing, and drink to forget”? It’s not exactly a commendable way of dealing with the oddities of Night Vale, and you’re not as inclined to drinking away your problems as Cecil is (which you  _really_  don’t like, and you  _are_ talking to him about it), so it doesn’t fully apply- but, the point still stands. You certainly won’t forget, not when it’s something fascinating and worthy of research, but you could  _try_  to say nothing, especially when Cecil worries that it might get you into trouble if you were to talk about it.

You only wish he could do the same for you. But his impulse-control is weak, his survival instincts are close to nonexistent, and his job only puts him in more danger than what is usual for the average citizen of Night Vale. You’re surprised he’s survived this long, what with his propensity for running right into danger, but…you’re glad, still. You’re glad that he’s- well, he’s _not_  okay after everything, and you can feel that from the quiet moments he suddenly has when you’re with him, but you’re glad that he’s still alive, even after everything.

You’re glad that he’s still with you.

_Bzz. Bzzz._

You jerk at the rumbling sound your pants make in response to the buzzing sound coming from your pocket. It doesn’t take long before you realize that it’s just your phone making that sound ( _and_ your pants) and, nigh instinctively, you smile at the thought of just  _who_  it is that’s calling you.

Cecil is the only person you’d expect to call at this hour- if hours  _do_  still exist at this point, which it doesn’t feel like they do, but their abstract existence means just the same even without it (and by it, you mean clocks) concretely behaving as it ought to. You check who’s calling, just to be completely sure, and smile a little wider when you see that it is indeed your boyfriend. You swipe a finger over the green-glowing screen before putting the phone to your ear, then saying, “Hey sweetie, I just finished with work. Are you done with yours?”

“ _Not quite yet, dear Carlos, as it appears that I have some scripts that I need to edit for tomorrow’s sponsors.”_ Cecil sighs, sounding only slightly tired, before brightening up considerably when he adds, “ _I do believe I’ll be home by dinner, though. How was work?_ ”

“It was exciting!” you say readily, grinning when you hear the “ _that’s great!_ ” exclaimed through the phone. “There have been these new plants- and I’m not a botanist, so plants aren’t really my specialty, but someone on my team has a book on plant species and it’s not  _there_. It wasn’t listed at all! We’ve been studying up on it, and we found out that touching it has the side-effect of,” you trail off, frowning as you rub at your chin, “you know what, I’m not quite sure. It differs on the person or sentient being that makes contact with it. Alice, one of my co-workers, was one of the first to touch it, and we’ve assumed that she’s hallucinating about another universe since she keeps thinking we’re asylum doctors, which we are definitely  _not._ We’re  _scientists_ , not doctors. David touched it and he grew small wings on his back, which are very impractical since they’re not even capable of carrying his weight. Anna just got rashes.”

“ _That’s, well,_ ” Cecil hesitates for only a short moment (which is really cute, considering how figuratively smooth he often is on the air), “ _that’s neat! It’s too bad for Anna, though. I’m sure it was very helpful for your research, so her small sacrifice is well worth it._ ”

“It was,” you agree, leaning back into your chair with a smile. “Night Vale truly has the most interesting materials and phenomena; I’m starting to think I’ll never run out of things to study here.”

“ _And I’m glad for that,_ ” Cecil answers, his soft smile more felt than seen as you close your eyes to envision it. “ _It wouldn’t do if you ran out of work to do, would it? A bored Carlos is a Carlos that likes to experiment on things that should_ not _be experimented on, and we both know what happens then._ ”

“ _Ceec_ ,” you say, tone scolding, until the laugh you’re holding in comes out in a quiet giggle. “I said I was sorry.”

“ _Did you tell the microwave that? Or the sofa? Or the glowing lights hovering over our television? Carlos,_ ” Cecil says, voice so sonorous and soothing that you have to open your eyes again to prevent yourself from dozing off, “ _sweet, darling Carlos, you are an extraordinary scientist, and I love you very much, but you can’t always dismantle the furniture just because you’re intrigued by the sounds or motions they make._ ”

“I understand,” you say, trying for a solemn tone, though you can’t help a smile from coming out once you’ve taken a pause to listen to Cecil’s pleased hum. “I’ll try my best not to bring my experiments at home, okay?”

You don’t have to see him to know that he’s smiling. He says, voice like honey in your mouth and sweet music to your ears, “ _Okay._ ”

“Okay.” You bite back a grin, because it’s a bit embarrassing to be so- so  _giddy_ over a call still, especially when it’s already been four years of you being together. You are a  _grown man_ , and so is Cecil, and you can be calm over this. You  _can_. It’s  _not_  that hard!

“ _I have to go; Station Management seems to be annoyed that I’ve taken too long a break.”_ Cecil sighs in exasperation, and you imagine him rolling his eyes while he’s at it. It certainly seems like something he’d do, especially with the tone of voice he’s using at the moment.

After a beat of a second, with his voice soft and infinitely (in a figurative manner, of course) more affectionate, he says, “ _I love you, Carlos._ ”

Well, there goes that idea of keeping calm.

You don’t bother to hide a soft smile as you lower your head, as you often would when feeling embarrassed. With your phone pressed close to your ear, you say (quietly hoping that Cecil will feel just how  _much_  you love him), “I love you too, Cecil. I’ll see you soon.”

_Beep._


End file.
